


Ficlets and Drabbles

by TatlBJifik



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Just lil drabbles I write here and there, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Relationships, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Lance (Voltron), Trans Male Character, multifandom fer sure, tags will change, tags will update as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 19:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatlBJifik/pseuds/TatlBJifik
Summary: Pretty much what the title says. These are just little scraps of writing from multiple fandoms.Pairings in the chapter title





	1. Restless Limbs, Restless Minds- Wolfstar

**Author's Note:**

> Requests are taken, hmu at my tumblr or something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius reflects on things he's learned and loves about Remus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love wolfstar so damn much?  
> Chapter title taken from the song Too Small For Eyes by Mother

Despite having such a large nose, Remus very rarely stuck it in anyone's business beside his own (unless you counted James' and Sirius' and Peter's business but really that was the prime portion of what Remus considered his own business). He was tall, broad shouldered and big handed, but he walked with the softness of something much more delicate. Where the beast prowled with the vicious confidence of a wolf, the boy stepped lightly with the gentle grace of a deer. Remus always seemed to be quietly embarrassed of taking up so much space. He was overly aware of his mile-long limbs, his wide palms, his knobby knuckles and knees, and tried to be as considerate as possible to the three feet surrounding him in all directions.

His voice was something plush, always on this side of throaty like he had just woken up from a nap, warm and sweet from sleep. But his words could turn suddenly sharp, like a glass breaking, the edges ready to cut any fumbling fingers in their attempt to pick the pieces up. He absolutely hated waking up. Anyone would assume that the morning after full moons would be the worst but those were usually quite tame (although there were a few very key exceptions to this of course). Zapped of all his energy, Remus didn't have the strength for his normal morning spats with the world and anyone with the audacity to inhabit it. No reasonable teenage boy liked mornings, but Remus hated them with a zeal that he typically reserved for classic literature or the perfect turkey sandwich or Sirius.

Everything he put on was soft. His cardigans, shirts, and facial expressions were all well-worn and comfortable. Underneath his shirts and his smiles though was a firmness, subtle but unwavering. It came through in the bite of his truly disappointed expression, like when James and Sirius made Peter the butt of some secret joke between them, or when Sirius lashed out at any of them in anger. It was there in the strength in his arms, like when he caught one of them falling out of their chair from raucous laughter, or when he pinned Sirius against the wall or the bed or a counter or- he really likes pinning him to things, the point is made.

There were so many minute details of Remus that Sirius loved knowing. In the summer when he and the rest would all soak up sunlight and youth like eager little plants, his hair turned fair and his freckles turned brown. He HATED oranges and grapefruit, but loved lemon in his tea. He thought Shakespeare was an important and necessary trial. He adored anything with a Byronic lead because they all reminded him of Sirius. The Secret Garden was his favorite comfort read. He hated to be touched when he cried, but he liked being held after he threw up. He thought white chocolate was grossly misnomered and was never going to stop trying to explain why. On and on all day ran the list of quirks and traits and habits and justifications that combined to make Remus. Sirius adored every one of the pieces, nearly as much as he adored the sum of the parts.


	2. Hands- Klance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith really likes looking at Lance's hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was about two years ago so a bit of progression hopefully lol

If asked to, Keith would have no trouble painting out a perfect rendition of Lance’s hands. He knows the exact shade of olive, he seeks it out in his everyday life, likening this and that to it and scoffing at its attempt to compare to Lance’s gorgeous hue. He knows that when Lance spreads his fingers they splay wide, wider than one would think by looking at his palm size. Keith catches himself often wondering whether Lance might play some sort of instrument that encouraged finger exercises, and how dexterous that may or may not make them. He knows exactly which tendons shift, which muscles jump when he moves his fingers. He knows that when he wriggles his ring finger the movement can be tracked all the way up his (wonderfully muscular) forearm. He knows that when Lance holds his hands out there is no tremor or shake, no unsteadiness to be found in them. They’re made for a marksman, solid as a rock, and delightfully strong, their grip sure and grounding. He knows that they’re warm nearly all the time. He knows they have the capacity to be gentle and patient, mirroring Lance himself. He could place each knuckle bump, each tiny knick and scar, each crease and callous.

The problem isn’t what Keith knows, it’s what he doesn’t know. he doesn’t know how Lance’s hands would touch him, what routes they would take along Keith’s body if given a chance, how each fingertip would feel when pressed to his lips in reverent kisses, what the warmth from them would feel like soaking into his bare skin. Would they sweat when Keith held them? Would they tremble when they fucked? Would they dig into his back and shoulders as they clung to each other? Would they yank at his hair or comb through it? 

Too many pressing questions remain, and Keith is no longer content with not knowing the answers.


	3. Love Me Tender- Corance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This title is lame but like its fine. I wrote this in like half an hour on my phone for my friend Badgers so excuse any major fuck ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally this is just corance porn and also lance is trans so theres vagina

"That's it Lance, darling. Steady now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?" Coran chuckles, pinning Lance's hips in place so the pace remains slow and sure, as it has been for nearing an hour now.

Lance tries to whine but it comes out a bit wobbly, and as wrung out as he feels. He feels like he's going to shake apart any second now, right on the edge of too much and not enough and it's so good, it's so goddamn good he can't stand it. How sore he's going to be later keeps hinting itself at him, in the trembling of his thighs and fingers and breaths, and how hot and swollen his hole is around Coran's dick, how his clit throbs from being hard for so long. Everywhere they're touching is almost embarrassingly hot and sticky and slick, and Lance can feel it in the way Coran's fingers slide over his back, hips, and ass, in how his grip keeps slipping and he has to tighten it almost painfully. That's damn near the best part to Lance, how desperately Coran's hands cling to him. It's one of the only real tells he's giving Lance right now that he's not as in control of himself as he seems.

Coran starts guiding Lance up and down on his cock again, slow and sure, but he's starting to crack. Lance feels too fucking good, looks too fucking good. All smooth skin and lean lines, a pretty flush over his cheeks and chest, lips bitten and red, eyes glassy, so blissed out on endorphins he can't even properly complain about all this relentless teasing. He's so tight around Coran, hot and wet and squeezing. Greedy. Coran knows he is, but he can't stop himself, or his hands, from taking in every bit of this wonderful boy that he can. Overwhelmed for a moment at the swell of love and affection and tender longing that blooms in his chest, he grabs Lance's cheeks delicately, cradling his face like something precious. He IS something precious. More than.

Lance's eyes meet his and Coran surges forward, kissing him with everything, trying to convey this wave of too much to him just through this, lips to lips and tongues tangling. He feels Lance's hands cover his own, feels their fingers intermingle and is once again drowning in the joys and aches panging their ways through his chest. They break for air on a moan from both of them, Lance clenching tight around him as Coran's hips rock up into him at such a good angle, dragging in all the right spots with every thrust. Coran wraps his arms tight around Lance's waist and decides they've both had enough, picking up the pace and bringing Lance's hips down sharper. Coran's lips stay on him though, kissing over his cheek, his throat, his chest, his shoulders. Lance chokes on a sob, clutching at Coran's shoulders and digging his nails in, reveling in the quiet, growling hiss that Coran responds with. He shivers in delight, a hot curl of lust and want warming him up from the contrast of Coran's hard, commanding thrusts and sweet, worshipful kisses. A desperate keening noise comes from somewhere in his chest and he claws at him, wanting, needing, Coran biting down on his shoulder to keep himself grounded. He loses it once Lance hits this stage, almost mindless, desperate to come. It's nearly the end of him but he's determined to make sure Lance comes first. Reaching down with one hand, his fingers find Lance's clit, hot and slick between them, rubbing circles around it in time with his thrusts just the way Lance likes it.

"Yes, darling, so good, you've got me nearly there. You feel so wonderful. But I want you to come for me now. Can you do that for me, love? Can you come for me?"

Lance nods with another little sob, bouncing himself now on Coran's cock, riding against his fingers, a groaning, panting mess. He feels himself tightening up around him, thighs squeezing his sides, burying his face in Coran's neck, eyes screwing shut as he comes, finally, finally comes, clinging to Coran through every wave, clenching rhythmically around him, aching in the best way.

Coran follows very soon after with a cry of Lance's name and a long groan, fucking up into him as he rides it out. Lance is momentarily disappointed at not getting to feel him come but knows that's just the residual horniness talking and he'll be grateful later when he's cleaning up. For now he just drifts, arms and legs slowly relaxing, going pliant in Coran's arms. Coran strokes his hands soothingly up and down Lance's back, laying lazy pecks to his shoulders and neck and ear til Lance giggles and half heartedly shoos him, muttering about being ticklish. Coran grins and ditches his neck in favor of his mouth, kissing him deeply, Lance reciprocating with a happy sigh, both of them wholly content.


End file.
